SCENE VI.--The Field of Bannockburn. The Scotch Reserve. To them enter

Bruce.

Bruce. Most noble souls who wait so patiently! Your splendid faith is in the air about you; Your steady eyes shine like a galaxy; Your presence comforts me: pressed in the fight, The thought of you, like balm upon a wound, Softened the thriftless aching of my heart. The English waver; on the hill behind Our followers fright them, marching in array Bannered and armed, a legion out of heaven. The tide of battle turns, and victory Needs only you to launch it bravely forth. Now--I would bid you think, but that the thought Eludes me, like a homely, old-known song, Wreathing in fitful gusts beyond the sense-- Now will the lofty keystone of our life Be pitched in heaven for ever. We have dreamt Our prayers into fulfilment many a time: to-day we wrestle, and the victory's ours: And yet I feel so scantly what it means That I'm ashamed. Enough: I know you all.-- Now for our homes, our children, and our wives, For freedom, for our land, for victory! And cry our old cry, Carrick! Soldiers. Carrick and victory! [They go out.

SMITH: A TRAGIC FARCE (Crieff, 1886)

PERSONS

Smith. Hallowes. Graham. Brown. Jones. Robinson. Two Men-servants. Magdalen. Topsy.

Scene: London and Garth. Time: The Present.

SMITH